


Rain

by DittyWrites



Series: PoisonQuinn [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, Character Study, F/F, Introspection, Love, Mentions of Violence, Moral Ambiguity, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:14:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24491113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DittyWrites/pseuds/DittyWrites
Summary: Harley’s soft gaze had been fixated on her own but as she insisted on remaining in the rain for a little longer Ivy noticed her expression sharpen ever so slightly. Her eyes hardened into something more analytical and the intelligence within shone through as Harley fell back into her experience as a psychologist with ease.“You okay, Red? Is something wrong?”“I’m just thinking.” Ivy replied, her tone warm as she soothed Harley’s fears. “About us. About them.” She indicated the asylum with a point of her foot. “About myself.”
Relationships: Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel, Poison Ivy/Harley Quinn
Series: PoisonQuinn [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/564869
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83





	Rain

**Author's Note:**

> My offering for the lgbtincomics pride month challenge! Ivy has always been one of my favourite LGBT characters and i wanted the opportunity to explore more of her thoughts and feelings towards the relationships she shares with those around her.
> 
> lgbtincomics.tumblr.com is the link if you wanna offer something up xx

Snatching the hem of the murky orange jumpsuit which all inmates were required to wear while incarcerated within the asylum, Ivy gripped the edge of the fabric which lay against her foot as she folded it over once to prevent it from trailing across the ground. The asylum courtyard was a sad affair, an open area of dust and rock which was monitored from all angles by the armed guards which were stationed safely in their watchtowers around the perimeter.

Greenery was tactfully limited to prevent her influence and what sad specimens of flora has survived the onslaught of both staff and inmates were so lacking in life that even she, with her unmatched talents, would struggle to get anything to bloom. It truly was a depressing sight and her head shook slightly with distaste as she surveyed the space from her vantage point.

After a donation from Wayne Enterprises, the asylum had been forced to install seating within the courtyard for the inmates to use during their time outdoors. Some bullshit about enriching the experience of inmates to encourage rehabilitation and provide some level of comfort. Tables had been firmly bolted into the ground in odd formations and with considerable space between them to prevent too many inmates from gathering in one area. With each table, two benches had also been bolted into foundations which had been installed beneath the hard ground.

While they were not the most comfortable places to sit for any length of time, they were better than nothing, and Ivy had chosen to perch on one such bench as she enjoyed her time outdoors. It was close to the edge and seated perfectly between two of the guard towers which gave her the maximum amount of privacy one could hope to achieve in such an open area.

The weather had been unusually warm and humid for the time of year and many within the asylum had been bemoaning the heat. Glancing upwards to the greying clouds which were drawing ever closer, Ivy doubted that they would have long to wait. The smell of static was in the air and the small hairs on the back of her neck were raised, both signs which promised rain.

It had been a month since her incarceration. She had agreed to assist Harley on a little project involving a few low-scale robberies mixed with just a touch of blackmail, but their plot was thwarted during the second robbery by the appearance of the Batman and his little sidekick. They had not planned for any interference at such an early stage in their plans and Ivy found that she was lacking any form of real defence against the onslaught of the pair.

Their easy apprehension was only a little embarrassing and she was thankful that no one had borne witness to it.

Amusing herself by tracing shapes in the dust, it was not until the first drop of water landed on her newly exposed ankle that she realised it had started to rain. It was gentle at first, the raindrops being fat and few between as they washed away the humidity of the day, but it soon built to a welcome consistency. Her hair was free, falling in its loose curls around her shoulders and she shook them out gently as she turned her face to the rainfall.

She loved the rain.

Closing her eyes to enjoy the sensation of the droplets, her hands jumped to her wrists as she rolled the sleeves of her jumpsuit up to expose her arms. The water was always appreciated, and she cracked one eye open slightly to watch as the water droplets landed on her arm, sat perfectly for a moment, and then disappeared as they were absorbed into the skin.

One of the more interesting side effects of her unique physiology, her ability to absorb certain amounts of water through skin contact was one which brought her much amusement. Like any human, she needed water to survive and it was usually more convenient to simply pour herself a glass and enjoy it in a traditional sense. However, she always found a beauty in absorbing the water straight from the source in all its fresh and untainted glory. It was pure life, uncorrupted by any human influence.

The majority of the inmates had retreated back into the asylum, seeking the comforts of the indoors and escaping the inconvenience of the rainfall. Some of them were unable to handle the rain, the discomfort making them unruly and wild, while some just preferred to avoid it. She watched them flee, their conformity giving them the appearance of ants, before taking note of those who had remained outside. They seemed to share a similar appreciation; their bodies outstretched in the rain as they allowed the elements to accost them.

Given the level of high-risk patients which were housed within the asylum, the administration had elected to split their outdoor recreational time into halves or thirds, depending on the numbers. However, if the patient in question did not want to go outside then they were also free to stay within the indoor rec-room. Enjoying the asylum hospitality at the moment, aside from herself and Harley, were Dent, Crane, Tetch and Nygma. Due to the split in times, only herself, Dent, and Harley were permitted their recreational time at the moment and neither of the other two had elected to come outside for the duration.

Despite the rumours which were whispered around the Gotham underbelly, Harley and she were not joined at the hip and often took the time to enjoy a little solitude, safe in the knowledge that the other was more than capable of enjoying their own company. It was in these moments of solitude which she could fully clear her mind and concentrate on whatever thoughts were nipping at the edges of her consciousness.

At the moment, as the cool rain continued to wash over her exposed arms and tap along her scalp, her thoughts were consumed by the other rogues which were sharing the asylum with her at the moment.

Dent was one of the few rogues who could claim to have known her prior to her breaking out to the world as Poison Ivy. In fact, he had come to know Pamela Isley very well. In those early days she had yet to perfect her pheromone solution, instead choosing to entice him in the traditional ways. It was not a difficult task and she was so full of rage against the world that she was willing to sacrifice him to set an example. As it would turn out, she was only one in a long line of people who would attempt to snuff out the shining light of righteousness that was Harvey Dent.

Sometimes she wondered if it would have been kinder if she had.

He was one of the few living beings to have ever shared her bed and lived, a feat in itself, and throughout their short-lived romance he had proven himself a gentleman. Still in the early stages of her evolution into who she now was, it was easy to ignore his innocence and instead focus on the punishment which she sought. She had been wrong and even now, so many years down the line, she still felt a tendril of guilt surrounding the role she may have played in his downfall.

On the rare occasion that their lives now crossed paths, the tone was often set by whichever Dent she was dealing with. In his more lucid moments, she enjoyed the sharp wit and almost nostalgic conversation she could enjoy with Harvey Dent. If he were spiralling in his madness, then she found Two-Face to be bitter, distasteful, and prone to lashing out if she approached. Even so, she generally did not wish him harm and found that thinking of him infected her with a strange pity which she often struggled to shake despite her best efforts.

The same could not be said for Edward Nygma.

Arrogant to a fault and utterly insufferable, she had no time for the man. Their relationship had been soured from their first meeting in which she had happily shattered his ego with her lack of tolerance or respect, and he had never recovered from the insult. She had also used him once, setting him under her influence and encroaching on his space while she hid from the law. It was cruel, taking away his self-control like that, but the alternative was to kill him so she supposed that she could live with the cruelty.

Since that incident he had given her a wide berth, their only interactions being punctured by jibes and aggression from both sides. As much as he may protest the fact, he was afraid of her, and that knowledge brought her some considerable satisfaction. However, knowledge also came with a price and while under her influence he had revealed a past which explained the man he was today. She was not without sympathy, having also suffered abuses under the hands of those stronger than her, but her sympathy was fleeting under his narcissism. Nygma was a pain in the ass, but at least he was smart enough to know when he was bested.

Crane was a more difficult man to pin down. He had frightened her in her earlier days, before she had fully worked out the law of the land, but her absolute refusal to show fear in the face of a man ever again had kept her spine strong when she faced off against him. Along with Dent, he was the only other rogue she had known before her rebirth and she doubted that even he knew how far their history extended.

She had taken up employment as a recently graduated associate within the biology department of Gotham University while he had been a psychology lecturer and she remembered his fall from grace well. Talk was cheap around the department and it took less than a day for everyone to become aware of his expulsion from the university and the events surrounding it.

She had thought nothing of him until he re-emerged as the Scarecrow and her uncertainty of him had taken a very dramatic dip when he attempted to gas her with his fear toxin only to find that the chemicals had no power over her.

It was difficult to come back from that and it allowed her a security in her dealings with him which very few others could enjoy. She had come to respect his prowess in his chosen field and Harley often spoke fondly of his lectures and what she could recall from them. They had even collaborated on the strange occasion with his knowledge supplementing her own enough that she could not fully consider him a complete waste of resources.

She did not fear him, and she doubted that he was afraid of her.

In terms of fear though, Jervis Tetch was her true pride and joy.

A horrible creature, she would have killed him long ago if not for the fact that he could barely stand to share a room with her; her red hair having twisted in his mind to form her into a representation of the Queen of Hearts with his natural fear of losing his head kept him at great length from her. The rumours surrounding him and his ‘preferences’ disgusted her and as much as Nygma or Crane were flawed and twisted, they had yet to sink to such levels of depravity. In discussions, he was often highlighted as being the first rogue which herself, Harley, or even Selina would eliminate in a given moment.

Ivy sighed, the sound coming across more wearily than she intended, as her thoughts turned to consider her non-incarcerated friend.

Selina was both a source of joy and misery. She found a kindred spirit in the thief, in her refusal to submit to others and the single-minded determination which would never be swayed. That brazen attitude in the face of so much adversity was something she appreciated that more that she would admit to. They were both strong and she would confess to feeling a very human warmth towards Selina and her obvious desire to protect both Ivy herself and Harley from outside forces which would harm them.

However, there in lay the issue which she often struggled with when it came to the relationship which she shared with Selina. For all the trust and belief which she lay in her, she could never bring herself to fully trust her and that slight doubt allowed resentment to bloom at times. Despite what Selina may believe, she did care for her, but that care was tainted by her association with Batman. Selina was intelligent, she knew of the mistrust, and it was a stain between them.

At times she felt sympathy for her, much like Dent, in the way which her life was a tightrope that she was destined to walk alone, never fully comfortable as a hero or a villain.

A hero or a villain.

Sometimes, the line was blurred so severely that even she was unable to tell the difference. As a villain, she was responsible for the deaths of many people and had caused even more unknown pain and suffering to even more across Gotham, most of whom she would never even know of. Ending some of the lives she had in her time had brought her pleasure, fuelling both her righteous rage and also her babies as she fed her enemies to her plants to allow them to thrive on the unwilling nutrients.

However, not all her actions were ill-intentioned.

After disaster had struck Gotham, she had provided for those who had lost everything from within her stronghold in Robinson Park. She provided food, shelter, and protection from the roving bands of animals who would tear any unfortunate soul who crossed their path to pieces. She had saved Harley; providing her with the strength and resilience to stand tall amongst the monsters of Gotham who would beat her down. Physically at first but she also hoped that she had provided some emotional comfort along the way.

A villain certainly, but to some, a hero.

It had been a young man, oddly enough, who had first ignited a spark of hope within her for the humans and their world. He had approached her, using what little money he had left to buy her location from some unknown source, and allowed himself to be apprehended by her security measures. He was dying, with no hope of recovery and no family to mourn him, but his last possession of value was a small indoor greenhouse which contained a very rare strain of wildflower that had never been discovered out with the Scottish isle on which it grew natively. When he passed, he knew it would fall to ruin and he wanted to gift it to her, believing that she was the only one who could take care of it as he had.

She had accepted of course, even going as far as to allow him to continue to visit the newly developing patch of flowers which she was able to strengthen and revitalise with her power. Visits which continued until he died some months later. He was one of the first humans she had truly formed a bond with since her full acceptance of her poisonous nature and she held many fond memories of their interactions.

His wildflowers still found a place within her garden.

She had been different then, her true power had only recently matured, and she was full of the hubris of youth, allowing it to cloud her judgment. A goddess is what they called her, and she believed it, rejecting her remaining humanity in favour of embracing the power thrumming through her veins and the control of nature itself which she revelled in.

Humiliation was soon to follow as she was thwarted in her plans and forced to recognise that she was not immune to failure or disappointment. Batman and others who sought to destroy her had seen to that and it only powered her rage. However, alongside the rage which the destruction of her plants and her plotting brought, also came great bounds in her humanity and its stubborn refusal to die. Bane had torn Gotham to shreds and she had found herself in the position of protector and provider to the same humans whom she had attempted to punish. Hypocritical perhaps, but she had loved it.

And then there was Harley.

Harleen Quinzel.

Stretching her hand out to meet the rain once again, Ivy caught some raindrops on her palm as her lips stretched into a lazy smile as she conjured an image of her partner. Harley had entered her life at a time of complete inaction. Failure had made her bitter and she had chosen to isolate herself within her own floral paradise to conduct her work. In her investigations of the fallen debris which had impacted within her garden, an incident she was quick to investigate as a potential threat, she had discovered the sorry sight of the beaten and badly injured woman.

Their relationship since had been marked with ups and downs; from Harley falling back into old habits with the Joker to her own flaring desires to reject her humanity and cut ties to any links which would encourage it. They were not flawless and their rejections of the other in times of emotional vulnerability caused wounds which were not easily healed. However, even through the turmoil, she had never been able to fully shake the warmth which her feelings for Harley brought her.

Harley had wormed her way through the thick bark which surrounded her heart and she did not even think that the blonde knew just how profound her impact was. The divide within her, between her plant-self and her humanity, had settled somewhat with age as youthful rage and passion slowly simmered to a more realistic and rounded view of herself and her position within the world.

They did not deserve the world they were given, but she could not bring herself to tear it all down around them.

And Harley was one of driving forces behind that, whether she understood that or not.

A hand on her shoulder startled her from her thoughts.

“Hey, Red,” a gentle voice from her side drew her attention, “are you coming inside?”

Turning to face the voice, Ivy settled her head on her shoulder to trap the fingers between her cheek and body as she glanced up at the object of her thoughts.

“Soon, Harls. I’m just enjoying the weather.”

“You’re soaked through,” Harley shook her head, her blonde hair ghosting along her own shoulders as they swayed within their bunches, “and you’re gonna catch a cold if you keep out here for too long. You know what the doctors here are like. Not worth it, Red.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Harley’s soft gaze had been fixated on her own but as she insisted on remaining in the rain for a little longer Ivy noticed her expression sharpen ever so slightly. Her eyes hardened into something more analytical and the intelligence within shone through as Harley fell back into her experience as a psychologist with ease.

“You okay, Red? Is something wrong?”

“I’m just thinking.” Ivy replied, her tone warm as she soothed Harley’s fears. “About us. About them.” She indicated the asylum with a point of her foot. “About myself.”

“And what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that maybe I should have brought a jacket out here with me.” She deflected the question with ease, unwilling to share her musings just yet.

The almost imperceptible movement of Harley’s lips was the only hint of her displeasure at the obvious deflection, but she appeared to accept it for what it was as a bright smile lit up her expression.

“Then let’s go back inside and warm up.”

“I’ll join you soon. I promise.” She lay her hand atop Harley’s silently encouraging the blonde to head back inside and out of the rain. No point in both of them getting soaked.

Harley held her gaze for another solid moment before nodding in agreement. Turning in place, her feet appeared to dance gracefully across the wet ground as she bounced back towards the asylum, seeking shelter as she awaited Ivy to join her.

Standing from the bench, Ivy drew her arms over her head in a languid stretch, only dropping one hand after a moment to wipe away a trickle of rain which was threatening to drip into her eye. The change in weather was invigorating and the power within her responded well to the increased moisture.

She was Poison Ivy; defender of Mother Nature who would be the first to avenge any great transgression against her with righteous bloodshed. She killed for nature and nature rewarded her by giving her power beyond belief, accepting her as one of their own. However, she was also Pamela Isley and, as she considered those few people who had earned her affections and respect, she was forced to face the fact that she was more human than she gave herself credit for.


End file.
